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“Andwhatiftherehasbeenasearchalready?WhatifIfindtheminmyroom?”
Butherewashisroom.Nothingandnooneinit.Noonehadpeepedin.EvenNastasyahadnottouchedit.Butheavens!howcouldhehaveleftallthosethingsinthehole?
Herushedtothecorner,slippedhishandunderthepaper,pulledthethingsoutandlinedhispocketswiththem.
Therewereeightarticlesinall:twolittleboxeswithear-ringsorsomethingofthesort,hehardlylookedtosee;thenfoursmallleathercases.
Therewasachain,too,merelywrappedinnewspaperandsomethingelseinnewspaper,thatlookedlikeadecoration….
Heputthemallinthedifferentpocketsofhisovercoat,andtheremainingpocketofhistrousers,tryingtoconcealthemasmuchaspossible.Hetookthepurse,too.
Thenhewentoutofhisroom,leavingthedooropen.
Hewalkedquicklyandresolutely,andthoughhefeltshattered,hehadhissensesabouthim.
Hewasafraidofpursuit,hewasafraidthatinanotherhalf-hour,anotherquarterofanhourperhaps,instructionswouldbeissuedforhispursuit,andsoatallcosts,hemusthidealltracesbeforethen.
Hemustcleareverythingupwhilehestillhadsomestrength,somereasoningpowerlefthim….Wherewashetogo?
Thathadlongbeensettled:“Flingthemintothecanal,andalltraceshiddeninthewater,thethingwouldbeatanend.”
Sohehaddecidedinthenightofhisdeliriumwhenseveraltimeshehadhadtheimpulsetogetupandgoaway,tomakehaste,andgetridofitall.
Buttogetridofit,turnedouttobeaverydifficulttask.
HewanderedalongthebankoftheEkaterininskyCanalforhalfanhourormoreandlookedseveraltimesatthestepsrunningdowntothewater,buthecouldnotthinkofcarryingouthisplan;eitherraftsstoodatthesteps’edge,andwomenwerewashingclothesonthem,orboatsweremooredthere,andpeoplewereswarmingeverywhere.
Moreoverhecouldbeseenandnoticedfromthebanksonallsides;itwouldlooksuspiciousforamantogodownonpurpose,stop,andthrowsomethingintothewater.
Andwhatiftheboxesweretofloatinsteadofsinking?Andofcoursetheywould.
Evenasitwas,everyonehemetseemedtostareandlookround,asiftheyhadnothingtodobuttowatchhim.“Whyisit,orcanitbemyfancy?”hethought.
AtlastthethoughtstruckhimthatitmightbebettertogototheNeva.
Therewerenotsomanypeoplethere,hewouldbelessobserved,anditwouldbemoreconvenientineveryway,aboveallitwasfurtheroff.
Hewonderedhowhecouldhavebeenwanderingforagoodhalf-hour,worriedandanxiousinthisdangerouspastwithoutthinkingofitbefore.
Andthathalf-hourhehadlostoveranirrationalplan,simplybecausehehadthoughtofitindelirium!
Hehadbecomeextremelyabsentandforgetfulandhewasawareofit.Hecertainlymustmakehaste.
HewalkedtowardstheNevaalongV——Prospect,butonthewayanotherideastruckhim.“WhytotheNeva?
Woulditnotbebettertogosomewherefaroff,totheIslandsagain,andtherehidethethingsinsomesolitaryplace,inawoodorunderabush,andmarkthespotperhaps?”
Andthoughhefeltincapableofclearjudgment,theideaseemedtohimasoundone.Buthewasnotdestinedtogothere.
ForcomingoutofV——Prospecttowardsthesquare,hesawontheleftapassageleadingbetweentwoblankwallstoacourtyard.
Ontherighthand,theblankunwhitewashedwallofafour-storiedhousestretchedfarintothecourt;ontheleft,awoodenhoardingranparallelwithitfortwentypacesintothecourt,andthenturnedsharplytotheleft.
Herewasadesertedfenced-offplacewhererubbishofdifferentsortswaslying.
Attheendofthecourt,thecornerofalow,smutty,stoneshed,apparentlypartofsomeworkshop,peepedfrombehindthehoarding.
Itwasprobablyacarriagebuilder’sorcarpenter’sshed;thewholeplacefromtheentrancewasblackwithcoaldust.
Herewouldbetheplacetothrowit,hethought.
Notseeinganyoneintheyard,heslippedin,andatoncesawnearthegateasink,suchasisoftenputinyardswheretherearemanyworkmenorcab-drivers;andonthehoardingabovehadbeenscribbledinchalkthetime-honouredwitticism,“Standingherestrictlyforbidden.”
Thiswasallthebetter,fortherewouldbenothingsuspiciousabouthisgoingin.
“HereIcouldthrowitallinaheapandgetaway!”
Lookingroundoncemore,withhishandalreadyinhispocket,henoticedagainsttheouterwall,betweentheentranceandthesink,abigunhewnstone,weighingperhapssixtypounds.
Theothersideofthewallwasastreet.
Hecouldhearpassers-by,alwaysnumerousinthatpart,buthecouldnotbeseenfromtheentrance,unlesssomeonecameinfromthestreet,whichmightwellhappenindeed,sotherewasneedofhaste.
Hebentdownoverthestone,seizedthetopofitfirmlyinbothhands,andusingallhisstrengthturneditover.
Underthestonewasasmallhollowintheground,andheimmediatelyemptiedhispocketintoit.
Thepurselayatthetop,andyetthehollowwasnotfilledup.
Thenheseizedthestoneagainandwithonetwistturneditback,sothatitwasinthesamepositionagain,thoughitstoodaverylittlehigher.
Buthescrapedtheearthaboutitandpresseditattheedgeswithhisfoot.Nothingcouldbenoticed.
Thenhewentout,andturnedintothesquare.
Againanintense,almostunbearablejoyoverwhelmedhimforaninstant,asithadinthepolice-office.“Ihaveburiedmytracks!
Andwho,whocanthinkoflookingunderthatstone?
Ithasbeenlyingtheremostlikelyeversincethehousewasbuilt,andwilllieasmanyyearsmore.
Andifitwerefound,whowouldthinkofme?Itisallover!Noclue!”Andhelaughed.
Yes,herememberedthathebeganlaughingathin,nervousnoiselesslaugh,andwentonlaughingallthetimehewascrossingthesquare.
ButwhenhereachedtheK——Boulevardwheretwodaysbeforehehadcomeuponthatgirl,hislaughtersuddenlyceased.Otherideascreptintohismind.
Hefeltallatoncethatitwouldbeloathsometopassthatseatonwhichafterthegirlwasgone,hehadsatandpondered,andthatitwouldbehateful,too,tomeetthatwhiskeredpolicemantowhomhehadgiventhetwentycopecks:“Damnhim!”
Hewalked,lookingabouthimangrilyanddistractedly.
Allhisideasnowseemedtobecirclingroundsomesinglepoint,andhefeltthattherereallywassuchapoint,andthatnow,now,hewasleftfacingthatpoint—andforthefirsttime,indeed,duringthelasttwomonths.
“Damnitall!”hethoughtsuddenly,inafitofungovernablefury.“Ifithasbegun,thenithasbegun.Hangthenewlife!GoodLord,howstupiditis!...AndwhatliesItoldto-day!
HowdespicablyIfawneduponthatwretchedIlyaPetrovitch!Butthatisallfolly!
WhatdoIcareforthemall,andmyfawninguponthem!Itisnotthatatall!Itisnotthatatall!”
Suddenlyhestopped;anewutterlyunexpectedandexceedinglysimplequestionperplexedandbitterlyconfoundedhim.
“Ifitallhasreallybeendonedeliberatelyandnotidiotically,ifIreallyhadacertainanddefiniteobject,howisitIdidnotevenglanceintothepurseanddon’tknowwhatIhadthere,forwhichIhaveundergonetheseagonies,andhavedeliberatelyundertakenthisbase,filthydegradingbusiness?
AndhereIwantedatoncetothrowintothewaterthepursetogetherwithallthethingswhichIhadnotseeneither…how’sthat?”
Yes,thatwasso,thatwasallso.Yethehadknownitallbefore,anditwasnotanewquestionforhim,evenwhenitwasdecidedinthenightwithouthesitationandconsideration,asthoughsoitmustbe,asthoughitcouldnotpossiblybeotherwise….
Yes,hehadknownitall,andunderstooditall;itsurelyhadallbeensettledevenyesterdayatthemomentwhenhewasbendingovertheboxandpullingthejewel-casesoutofit….Yes,soitwas.
“ItisbecauseIamveryill,”hedecidedgrimlyatlast,“Ihavebeenworryingandfrettingmyself,andIdon’tknowwhatIamdoing….
YesterdayandthedaybeforeyesterdayandallthistimeIhavebeenworryingmyself….
IshallgetwellandIshallnotworry….ButwhatifIdon’tgetwellatall?GoodGod,howsickIamofitall!”
Hewalkedonwithoutresting.Hehadaterriblelongingforsomedistraction,buthedidnotknowwhattodo,whattoattempt.
Anewoverwhelmingsensationwasgainingmoreandmoremasteryoverhimeverymoment;thiswasanimmeasurable,almostphysical,repulsionforeverythingsurroundinghim,anobstinate,malignantfeelingofhatred.
Allwhomethimwereloathsometohim—heloathedtheirfaces,theirmovements,theirgestures.
Ifanyonehadaddressedhim,hefeltthathemighthavespatathimorbittenhim….
Hestoppedsuddenly,oncomingoutonthebankoftheLittleNeva,nearthebridgetoVassilyevskyOstrov.
“Why,heliveshere,inthathouse,”hethought,“why,IhavenotcometoRazumihinofmyownaccord!Hereit’sthesamethingoveragain….
Veryinterestingtoknow,though;haveIcomeonpurposeorhaveIsimplywalkedherebychance?
Nevermind,IsaidthedaybeforeyesterdaythatIwouldgoandseehimthedayafter;well,andsoIwill!
BesidesIreallycannotgofurthernow.”
HewentuptoRazumihin’sroomonthefifthfloor.
Thelatterwasathomeinhisgarret,busilywritingatthemoment,andheopenedthedoorhimself.
Itwasfourmonthssincetheyhadseeneachother.
Razumihinwassittinginaraggeddressing-gown,withslippersonhisbarefeet,unkempt,unshavenandunwashed.Hisfaceshowedsurprise.
“Isityou?”hecried.
Helookedhiscomradeupanddown;thenafterabriefpause,hewhistled.“Ashardupasallthat!Why,brother,you’vecutmeout!”
headded,lookingatRaskolnikov’srags.
“Comesitdown,youaretired,I’llbebound.”
AndwhenhehadsunkdownontheAmericanleathersofa,whichwasinevenworseconditionthanhisown,Razumihinsawatoncethathisvisitorwasill.
“Why,youareseriouslyill,doyouknowthat?”Hebeganfeelinghispulse.Raskolnikovpulledawayhishand.
“Nevermind,”hesaid,“Ihavecomeforthis:Ihavenolessons….Iwanted,...butIdon’treallywantlessons….”
“ButIsay!Youaredelirious,youknow!”Razumihinobserved,watchinghimcarefully.
“No,Iamnot.”
Raskolnikovgotupfromthesofa.AshehadmountedthestairstoRazumihin’s,hehadnotrealisedthathewouldbemeetinghisfriendfacetoface.
Now,inaflash,heknew,thatwhathewasleastofalldisposedforatthatmomentwastobefacetofacewithanyoneinthewideworld.Hisspleenrosewithinhim.
HealmostchokedwithrageathimselfassoonashecrossedRazumihin’sthreshold.
“Good-bye,”hesaidabruptly,andwalkedtothedoor.
“Stop,stop!Youqueerfish.”
“Idon’twantto,”saidtheother,againpullingawayhishand.
“Thenwhythedevilhaveyoucome?Areyoumad,orwhat?Why,thisis…almostinsulting!Iwon’tletyougolikethat.”
“Well,then,IcametoyoubecauseIknownoonebutyouwhocouldhelp…tobegin…becauseyouarekinderthananyone—cleverer,Imean,andcanjudge…andnowIseethatIwantnothing.Doyouhear?
Nothingatall…noone’sservices…noone’ssympathy.Iambymyself…alone.Come,that’senough.Leavemealone.”
“Stayaminute,yousweep!Youareaperfectmadman.AsyoulikeforallIcare.
Ihavenolessons,doyousee,andIdon’tcareaboutthat,butthere’sabookseller,Heruvimov—andhetakestheplaceofalesson.
Iwouldnotexchangehimforfivelessons.
He’sdoingpublishingofakind,andissuingnaturalsciencemanualsandwhatacirculationtheyhave!Theverytitlesareworththemoney!
YoualwaysmaintainedthatIwasafool,butbyJove,myboy,therearegreaterfoolsthanIam!
Nowheissettingupforbeingadvanced,notthathehasaninklingofanything,but,ofcourse,Iencouragehim.
HerearetwosignaturesoftheGermantext—inmyopinion,thecrudestcharlatanism;itdiscussesthequestion,‘Iswomanahumanbeing?’
And,ofcourse,triumphantlyprovesthatsheis.
Heruvimovisgoingtobringoutthisworkasacontributiontothewomanquestion;Iamtranslatingit;hewillexpandthesetwoandahalfsignaturesintosix,weshallmakeupagorgeoustitlehalfapagelongandbringitoutathalfarouble.Itwilldo!
Hepaysmesixroublesthesignature,itworksouttoaboutfifteenroublesforthejob,andI’vehadsixalreadyinadvance.
Whenwehavefinishedthis,wearegoingtobeginatranslationaboutwhales,andthensomeofthedullestscandalsoutofthesecondpartofLesConfessionswehavemarkedfortranslation;somebodyhastoldHeruvimov,thatRousseauwasakindofRadishchev.
YoumaybesureIdon’tcontradicthim,hanghim!
Well,wouldyouliketodothesecondsignatureof‘_Iswomanahumanbeing?
_’Ifyouwould,taketheGermanandpensandpaper—allthoseareprovided,andtakethreeroubles;forasIhavehadsixroublesinadvanceonthewholething,threeroublescometoyouforyourshare.
Andwhenyouhavefinishedthesignaturetherewillbeanotherthreeroublesforyou.
Andpleasedon’tthinkIamdoingyouaservice;quitethecontrary,assoonasyoucamein,Isawhowyoucouldhelpme;tobeginwith,Iamweakinspelling,andsecondly,IamsometimesutterlyadriftinGerman,sothatImakeitupasIgoalongforthemostpart.
Theonlycomfortis,thatit’sboundtobeachangeforthebetter.
Thoughwhocantell,maybeit’ssometimesfortheworse.Willyoutakeit?”
RaskolnikovtooktheGermansheetsinsilence,tookthethreeroublesandwithoutawordwentout.
Razumihingazedafterhiminastonishment.
ButwhenRaskolnikovwasinthenextstreet,heturnedback,mountedthestairstoRazumihin’sagainandlayingonthetabletheGermanarticleandthethreeroubles,wentoutagain,stillwithoututteringaword.
“Areyouraving,orwhat?”Razumihinshouted,rousedtofuryatlast.“Whatfarceisthis?You’lldrivemecrazytoo…whatdidyoucometoseemefor,damnyou?”
“Idon’twant…translation,”mutteredRaskolnikovfromthestairs.
“Thenwhatthedevildoyouwant?”shoutedRazumihinfromabove.Raskolnikovcontinueddescendingthestaircaseinsilence.
“Hey,there!Whereareyouliving?”
Noanswer.
“Well,confoundyouthen!”
ButRaskolnikovwasalreadysteppingintothestreet.
OntheNikolaevskyBridgehewasrousedtofullconsciousnessagainbyanunpleasantincident.
Acoachman,aftershoutingathimtwoorthreetimes,gavehimaviolentlashonthebackwithhiswhip,forhavingalmostfallenunderhishorses’hoofs.
Thelashsoinfuriatedhimthathedashedawaytotherailing(forsomeunknownreasonhehadbeenwalkingintheverymiddleofthebridgeinthetraffic).
Heangrilyclenchedandgroundhisteeth.Heheardlaughter,ofcourse.
“Serveshimright!”
“ApickpocketIdaresay.”
“Pretendingtobedrunk,forsure,andgettingunderthewheelsonpurpose;andyouhavetoanswerforhim.”
“It’saregularprofession,that’swhatitis.”
Butwhilehestoodattherailing,stilllookingangryandbewilderedaftertheretreatingcarriage,andrubbinghisback,hesuddenlyfeltsomeonethrustmoneyintohishand.Helooked.
Itwasanelderlywomaninakerchiefandgoatskinshoes,withagirl,probablyherdaughterwearingahat,andcarryingagreenparasol.
“Takeit,mygoodman,inChrist’sname.”
Hetookitandtheypassedon.Itwasapieceoftwentycopecks.
Fromhisdressandappearancetheymightwellhavetakenhimforabeggaraskingalmsinthestreets,andthegiftofthetwentycopeckshedoubtlessowedtotheblow,whichmadethemfeelsorryforhim.
Heclosedhishandonthetwentycopecks,walkedonfortenpaces,andturnedfacingtheNeva,lookingtowardsthepalace.
Theskywaswithoutacloudandthewaterwasalmostbrightblue,whichissorareintheNeva.
Thecupolaofthecathedral,whichisseenatitsbestfromthebridgeabouttwentypacesfromthechapel,glitteredinthesunlight,andinthepureaireveryornamentonitcouldbeclearlydistinguished.
Thepainfromthelashwentoff,andRaskolnikovforgotaboutit;oneuneasyandnotquitedefiniteideaoccupiedhimnowcompletely.
Hestoodstill,andgazedlongandintentlyintothedistance;thisspotwasespeciallyfamiliartohim.
Whenhewasattendingtheuniversity,hehadhundredsoftimes—generallyonhiswayhome—stoodstillonthisspot,gazedatthistrulymagnificentspectacleandalmostalwaysmarvelledatavagueandmysteriousemotionitrousedinhim.
Itlefthimstrangelycold;thisgorgeouspicturewasforhimblankandlifeless.
Hewonderedeverytimeathissombreandenigmaticimpressionand,mistrustinghimself,putofffindingtheexplanationofit.
Hevividlyrecalledthoseolddoubtsandperplexities,anditseemedtohimthatitwasnomerechancethatherecalledthemnow.
Itstruckhimasstrangeandgrotesque,thatheshouldhavestoppedatthesamespotasbefore,asthoughheactuallyimaginedhecouldthinkthesamethoughts,beinterestedinthesametheoriesandpicturesthathadinterestedhim…soshortatimeago.
Hefeltitalmostamusing,andyetitwrunghisheart.
Deepdown,hiddenfarawayoutofsightallthatseemedtohimnow—allhisoldpast,hisoldthoughts,hisoldproblemsandtheories,hisoldimpressionsandthatpictureandhimselfandall,all….
Hefeltasthoughhewereflyingupwards,andeverythingwerevanishingfromhissight.
Makinganunconsciousmovementwithhishand,hesuddenlybecameawareofthepieceofmoneyinhisfist.
Heopenedhishand,staredatthecoin,andwithasweepofhisarmflungitintothewater;thenheturnedandwenthome.
Itseemedtohim,hehadcuthimselfofffromeveryoneandfromeverythingatthatmoment.
Eveningwascomingonwhenhereachedhome,sothathemusthavebeenwalkingaboutsixhours.
Howandwherehecamebackhedidnotremember.
Undressing,andquiveringlikeanoverdrivenhorse,helaydownonthesofa,drewhisgreatcoatoverhim,andatoncesankintooblivion….
Itwasduskwhenhewaswakedupbyafearfulscream.GoodGod,whatascream!Suchunnaturalsounds,suchhowling,wailing,grinding,tears,blowsandcurseshehadneverheard.
Hecouldneverhaveimaginedsuchbrutality,suchfrenzy.
Interrorhesatupinbed,almostswooningwithagony.
Butthefighting,wailingandcursinggrewlouderandlouder.
Andthentohisintenseamazementhecaughtthevoiceofhislandlady.
Shewashowling,shriekingandwailing,rapidly,hurriedly,incoherently,sothathecouldnotmakeoutwhatshewastalkingabout;shewasbeseeching,nodoubt,nottobebeaten,forshewasbeingmercilesslybeatenonthestairs.
Thevoiceofherassailantwassohorriblefromspiteandragethatitwasalmostacroak;buthe,too,wassayingsomething,andjustasquicklyandindistinctly,hurryingandspluttering.
AllatonceRaskolnikovtrembled;herecognisedthevoice—itwasthevoiceofIlyaPetrovitch.
IlyaPetrovitchhereandbeatingthelandlady!
Heiskickingher,bangingherheadagainstthesteps—that’sclear,thatcanbetoldfromthesounds,fromthecriesandthethuds.Howisit,istheworldtopsy-turvy?
Hecouldhearpeoplerunningincrowdsfromallthestoreysandallthestaircases;heheardvoices,exclamations,knocking,doorsbanging.“Butwhy,why,andhowcoulditbe?”
herepeated,thinkingseriouslythathehadgonemad.Butno,heheardtoodistinctly!
Andtheywouldcometohimthennext,“fornodoubt…it’sallaboutthat…aboutyesterday….GoodGod!”
Hewouldhavefastenedhisdoorwiththelatch,buthecouldnotlifthishand…besides,itwouldbeuseless.
Terrorgrippedhisheartlikeice,torturedhimandnumbedhim….
Butatlastallthisuproar,aftercontinuingabouttenminutes,begangraduallytosubside.
Thelandladywasmoaningandgroaning;IlyaPetrovitchwasstillutteringthreatsandcurses….
Butatlasthe,too,seemedtobesilent,andnowhecouldnotbeheard.“Canhehavegoneaway?GoodLord!”
Yes,andnowthelandladyisgoingtoo,stillweepingandmoaning…andthenherdoorslammed….
Nowthecrowdwasgoingfromthestairstotheirrooms,exclaiming,disputing,callingtooneanother,raisingtheirvoicestoashout,droppingthemtoawhisper.
Theremusthavebeennumbersofthem—almostalltheinmatesoftheblock.“But,goodGod,howcoulditbe!Andwhy,whyhadhecomehere!”
Raskolnikovsankwornoutonthesofa,butcouldnotclosehiseyes.
Helayforhalfanhourinsuchanguish,suchanintolerablesensationofinfiniteterrorashehadneverexperiencedbefore.
Suddenlyabrightlightflashedintohisroom.
Nastasyacameinwithacandleandaplateofsoup.
Lookingathimcarefullyandascertainingthathewasnotasleep,shesetthecandleonthetableandbegantolayoutwhatshehadbrought—bread,salt,aplate,aspoon.
“You’veeatennothingsinceyesterday,Iwarrant.You’vebeentrudgingaboutallday,andyou’reshakingwithfever.”
“Nastasya…whatweretheybeatingthelandladyfor?”
Shelookedintentlyathim.
“Whobeatthelandlady?”
“Justnow…halfanhourago,IlyaPetrovitch,theassistantsuperintendent,onthestairs….Whywasheill-treatingherlikethat,and…whywashehere?”
Nastasyascrutinisedhim,silentandfrowning,andherscrutinylastedalongtime.Hefeltuneasy,evenfrightenedathersearchingeyes.
“Nastasya,whydon’tyouspeak?”hesaidtimidlyatlastinaweakvoice.
“It’stheblood,”sheansweredatlastsoftly,asthoughspeakingtoherself.
“Blood?Whatblood?”hemuttered,growingwhiteandturningtowardsthewall.
Nastasyastilllookedathimwithoutspeaking.
“Nobodyhasbeenbeatingthelandlady,”shedeclaredatlastinafirm,resolutevoice.
Hegazedather,hardlyabletobreathe.
“Ihearditmyself….Iwasnotasleep…Iwassittingup,”hesaidstillmoretimidly.“Ilistenedalongwhile.Theassistantsuperintendentcame….
Everyoneranoutontothestairsfromalltheflats.”
“Noonehasbeenhere.That’sthebloodcryinginyourears.Whenthere’snooutletforitanditgetsclotted,youbeginfancyingthings….Willyoueatsomething?”
Hemadenoanswer.Nastasyastillstoodoverhim,watchinghim.
“Givemesomethingtodrink…Nastasya.”
Shewentdownstairsandreturnedwithawhiteearthenwarejugofwater.Herememberedonlyswallowingonesipofthecoldwaterandspillingsomeonhisneck.Thenfollowedforgetfulness.
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